The Cooking Challenge
by Kathrinek
Summary: France is bored and decides to make a cooking challenge, wich Denmark hopes to win


So here's my first fanfic ever!;p I know it most likely sucks:S but anyway I hope you enjoy it and please review so I can improve!:D I don't own Hetalia and I never will (could be cool though, right?;p) sorry if there's any bad spelling and I've tried my best but I'm simply not that good at Sweden talk , so here it is:

It was a usual day at a world meeting. Everything was as it used to be, Prussia was trying to invade everyone's vital regions, Ivan was trying to be one with everyone, America was busy convincing everyone why he was the hero which was leading towards a huge discussion with Iggy, Denmark was bringing Sweden to the boiling point by poking him in the head over and over again and Germany was trying to actually have a meeting. Nothing was unusual, much to France's boredom. In fact France was so bored that he hadn't even considered trying to molest anyone or ignoring Iggy. Then the idea got to him.

In the middle of chaos France stood up and cleared his throat. Much to everyone's surprise since he had been unusually quiet during the whole meeting.

"Attention!" France said and the whole meeting room turned silent. France smirked.

"Merci, everyone I have an announcement to make!" The entire room listened in excitement.

France continued his speech "Tomorrow I am arranging a cooking challenge where everyone has to cook a national dish, I figured it would be a good idea since we obliviously need something different than boring graphs to think about, oui?" Everyone nodded while looking at Germany who was holding a thick stack of graphs showing the oil resources.

Prussia stood up at the other end at the meeting room and pointed out "Who will be the judge?" He pointed out thinking he might have outsmarted France for remembering that detail.

"Ah oui La Prusse, that is a good point. Since none of you would be able to win the competition if I participated I shall be the judge" France announced happily.

Arthur had reached the boiling point "What makes you think we can't cook, he?" He said grumpy

France looked at him and replied "I have never said I was the only one who can cook, that we will see about that tomorrow, but I think it is clear to everyone Angleterre that you can't even cook pasta" He pointed out.

North Italy woke up from his sleep and screamed happily "PASTA!"

After a moment of silence the discussion between Arthur and France continued.

Arthur looked at France as if he were about to explode "I can cook just fine you perverted French frog!" he yelled.

France decided to ignore Arthur's words and looked around. This is going to be good France thought watching all the nations eagerly discussing where to find the best ingredients.

Denmark was jolly as always cycling down Strøget in Copenhagen, luckily he hadn't brought his axe to the meeting which always made it a lot easier to cycle home. He knew just exactly what dish he would make to win the competition, as it was clear to him that no one could make anything in compare to his frikadeller with potatoes and gravy. He didn't even need a recipe since he had made frikadeller so many times that it had during time been stored in his brain. He knew he was a great cook, 'cus he had the world's best restaurant! Of course he did, he was after all the king of northern Europe! He just needed that little extra touch to lift his dish up to that next level. As he passed Sankt Peders Bageri the yummiest smell of freshly baked rugbrød reach his nose. Of course rugbrød! Why hadn't he thought of that before? After shopping for the last groceries and his trip to the baker he cycled home to his Copenhagen apartment. Just think of the look on Sverige's face when he had won the competition Denmark thought. Then everyone would see that he truly was the king of northern Europe.

The next day Denmark was making his way up the stairs to France's apartment as he opened the door he was meet with a highly amusing sight. France's fancy Parisian apartment was packed with nations running around carrying weird smelling food trying to find their table and France running around after Gilbert like crazy yelling "non non, don't touch that!"

Denmark looked around trying to find the other Nordics and luckily he saw Sverige standing still as the only person in the room at a table in the corner. He smiled and walked over there. Sverige looked at him the stoic way that only Sverige can which would have made every other nation tremble in fear, but not Denmark. He had been sent that look so many times that he was (almost) immune to it now.

"Hejsa Sverige! Are you ready to lose to the king of northern Europe?" Denmark said loudly, but then again Denmark was always loud.

"'m n't loos'ng t' ya D'nm'rk, 'nd ya' aren't the k'ng 'f North'rn 'ruope" Sweden replied with his monotone voice.

Denmark grinned "We'll see about that" he said while placing his dish on the table, after a few moments of embarrassing silence Denmark continued trying to have a conversation with Sweden, not really because he felt like talking with him, he would much rather talk to Norge even Tino, but since Sweden was the only one around and Denmark is extremely talkative Sweden would have to do.

"So uhmm Sverige, what have you made?" Denmark asked being actually quite a bit curious.

"Köttbullar" Sweden replied a bit proud of his own creation, but he would never tell Denmark that.

The chock rushed threw Denmarks body "You can't be making that, I've made frikadeller!" Denmark was starting to get worried, how could he possibly win when Sverige had made the almost same dish?

Sweden looked at him not quite understanding Denmarks dilemma " So, wh't's th' porbl'm?"

"It's the same thing, you have to make something else!" Denmark demanded.

Sweden just looked at him with his cold turquoise eyes and murmured "T' l'te, Fr'nce 's on h's way" and pointed at France a few meters away trying his hardest not to throw Arthur's Fish and Chips.

Denmark decided to hope for the best, and anyway his would be the best and no matter what his meatballs would be the best, since he was the king of northern Europe so he made the final arrangements to the dish. While Denmark had been arranging his frikadeller France had barely survived England's cooking and was now standing at their table.

"Bonjour Danemark et Suède! Show me your dishes" France said cheerfully hoping to taste something a bit more pleasant than Arthur's cooking. Since they were the last he walked out to the middle of the living room after he had tasted, smirked and said in his most dramatic way "Countries of the world I have the result!"

At that moment everybody froze and the silence spread through the room.

"The winner is the Italian brothers for making parfait pasta!"

Cheers and buhh's filled the room, the buhh's came from Prussia and America while Hungary was busy taking pictures of the winners.

France cleared his throat loudly:"Now I will mention some of the mieux and some of the worst now. Russia may I please say that Vodka is not a dish, even though you like the taste the same thing goes for Holland with Weed. Angeterre there isn't really much to say is there?" He smirked once again and ducked just in time for not getting the rest of England's "dish" in the head.

So he continued:" America I can see the passion in your eyes about the dish, but burgers aren't a culinary chef-d'œuvre. And now some credit for the rising étoiles!" France smiled in his own cheesy way.

"Japan, great work with that sushi, China you have made the best noodles today, Austria that Apfel kuchen was just superb! Suede et Danemark I have to give you credit for the flavor and you could both have won, but it was the same dish." he said the last part so quiet so it was almost a whisper afraid to get beat up by the two Scandinavians.

The awkward silence and tension spread until, luckily for France, the sound of a very loud an ignoring Prussian: "Haha Dänemark und Schweden! You made the same dish! Haha!" Gilbert was now rolling around on the floor laughing, unable to stop.

Denmark was on his was over to kick Gilbert's Prussian ass when he felt a hand on his shoulder, to everyones surprise it was Sweden.

"L't's g' 'nd k'ck s'me Pr'ssi'n ass!"

Denmark grinned and went over to pick up his axe in the corner of the room.

And that was the day Gilbert learned not to make fun of Scandinavian meatballs…


End file.
